


In the back of the garden...

by JackandHoney



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Greaserlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1988535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackandHoney/pseuds/JackandHoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh the things the young people get up to when left alone at boring parties...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the back of the garden...

"We're going to -" A gasp and a heady sigh. "Get into so much trouble."  
Low in his chest, Sherlock chuckled. "Why? Afraid Mummy and Daddy will notice you missing?" He inquired, his mouth still working at her jaw line, his body pressing hers against the side of the barn.  
The night was just a little bit chilly. The wind brushing across the garden as a great many people celebrated another year of marriage for Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. (At least, that's how Sherlock saw it. Who cared if they'd been married thirty years? Honestly.)  
"They will." Molly insisted, her fingers brushing over the buttery weather jacket he wore, her fingers nothing but loving.  
"And then I'll get in horrible trouble." Sherlock knew very well that if she really didn't want to, that she wouldn't be stroking his shoulders, wouldn't have her leg hitched up over his.  
"I'll tell them it was all my fault." he assured her, his hand cupping her left breast that lay under her cardigan.  
Molly paused, looking over her shoulder. The Holmes' did have a very large yard. And they were in a very secluded place.  
It was doubtful anyone would notice them gone for a few minutes...  
"Fine." She breathed, nodding slightly. "But do be quick." She told him, smiling as his mouth attached to his and he pressed his body, long and lean into hers a bit harder. She whimpered slightly, clinging to him as she was lifted slightly, his hands roaming her body.  
He groaned, deep in his throat when he felt her fingers raking through his hair, ruffling the carefully slicked back sides and causing the curls to fall loose in front of his face.  
"You're mine." he insisted, his mouth working across her collarbone as he unbuttoned her cardigan so he could get to the tender flesh that was hidden under her blouse. "Yes." She nodded, filling him with a primal sort of arousal that never ceased to make him burn.  
She pulled back from a long heated kiss before pushing him away slightly.  
Her eyes never left his as she bent over slightly, her hands working quickly in the dark under her skirt as she stepped out of her panties, handing the still warm fabric to him.  
He had watched her, his own hands working quickly on his own trousers, then pants.  
"Did you plan on this?" She inquired quietly as she heard the tearing of a wrapper.  
"Why would I plan on taking you up against the side of a barn?" he snickered lifting her up with one arm, her skirt bunching up around her waist as her legs wrapped around him, his fingers brushing over the top of her stockings, causing her to shiver against him.  
"What a scoundrel you are, Mr. Holmes." She murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her cheek against the leather jacket she adored so. It felt, and smelled, like him.  
She saw it as a part of him. The thought of Sherlock Holmes not wearing his old black leather jacket, of him not looking like a total hunk in it was practically blaspheme. (Even if he could be a bit of a snap case at times...)  
(She did wonder, why he wore it sometimes, it really wasn’t cold enough to have it on. But then again. Maybe he knew how hot and bothered it got her…?)  
He chuckled again, deep in his chest as he finally thrust into her, groaning as her tight heat wrapped around him, held him.  
"Oh." He groaned, quickly moving against her, his strong arms holding her and pleasure filling both their bodies. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

"Having a good time, brother dearest?" Mycroft Holmes asked slyly as his kid brother and his morbid little girlfriend strode into the garden, hand in hand and looking perfectly pleased.  
"Oh, the very best." Sherlock smirked. Molly only blushed, burying her head into the dark leather of his jacket.  
She wondered silently if Mycroft knew Sherlock still had her panties in his back pocket...


End file.
